


36 Questions

by Moonlight_fingers



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A bit like "Before Sunrise", Enchanted nachos, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Ministry of Magic Employee Draco Malfoy, Ministry of Magic Employee Hermione Granger, One-Shot, Sexual tension but nothing really happens, Short discussion of mental health issues - Draco has intrusive thoughts, The 36 questions thing is based on a real life study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:00:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24332467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonlight_fingers/pseuds/Moonlight_fingers
Summary: “Great. Now Granger,” his voice velvet, “Tell me all your deepest, darkest secrets.”“What?” She was stumbling headfirst into giggles.Argh, talk facts, talk facts.“You know, there’s this 1997 Muggle study where they came up with 36 questions to get to know a person better in one conversation. If that’s the sort of thing you had in mind.”Well they call it “36 questions to fall in love”, but that isn’t what it was designed for and that’s not what I’m trying to do here and Malfoy doesn’t have to know.“Mm. Perfect. Let’s do it.”
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 14
Kudos: 147





	36 Questions

**Author's Note:**

> The study Hermione mentions is real, you may have heard of it: https://ggia.berkeley.edu/practice/36_questions_for_increasing_closeness
> 
> There's also an article in the Modern Love section of the New York Times detailing one person's experiences with it. This is referred to later in the story.
> 
> Many, many thanks to my dear friend Im, who gave me loving and incisive feedback over multiple drafts, and whose enthusiasm (despite not being a Dramione shipper!) continually replenished my motivation to finish this.
> 
> This is my first fic! I do hope you enjoy it :)

It was fourteen minutes past five, and fourteen minutes past the limits of human endurance. Hermione loved these Consortium for the Healing of All One-headed Sentients (or CHAOS) conferences dearly, but the last speaker had been at it for three hours about Strategies for the Better Control of Nosocomial Type 2 House-elf Maladies and she was _hangry_. 

She was still antsy when she finally heard the usual “... ladies and gentlemen, refreshments in Room 5”. Such an interesting topic - should go through the literature - had Malfoy said near the refreshments or at the entrance - she was going to be late- relax, just Malfoy, not a _date_ \- why’d he pick a bar though - which paper by Zauberstab et al. had she been referring to, 2012 or 2017?… 

“Granger, over here!” No wonder she hadn’t spotted him in the swarm; Malfoy was wearing sweatpants and a hoodie. It did exude an anomalous classiness, with the silver-on-black detailing, and the sleeves pushed up against his lean muscle, and the hoodie unzipping languidly over that washboard... but niggling nargles, you couldn’t just show up in _athleisure_ to represent the Ministry- 

“What are you wearing?” 

“Zabini dared me to survive an entire week in Mugglewear. Why, does it turn you on, Granger?” 

Hermione extended her arm for the side-along Apparition wrinkling her nose as visibly as possible without looking like she was trying. This delicate operation was lost on Draco, who was focusing on a Muggle gastropub he’d picked after several calls to friends in the area. _Can’t believe she lets you touch her,_ said a voice in the back of his head. 

“Malfoy, you snob! This place is so fancy, you could have given me a heads up for goodness’ sake.” _I look like a swotty troll right now_. 

They entered through a short, dark passageway, and Hermione decided this was her last chance to look like she hadn’t been kidnapped from work and brought to a gastropub. She silently transfigured her robes into the first fancy outfit she could think of: her Yule ball gown, in minidress form. _Fun, yet classy_ , she thought optimistically.

She’d almost done a terrific job. Ruffles effervesced down her body; the periwinkle looked beautiful in the warm, low light. But the neckline. The neckline, she realized with a gut-twisting cringe, was very, very low. And she couldn’t very well adjust it now, Malfoy would think she was a prude. 

This delicate (if botched) operation was _not_ lost on Draco, who tried hard not to widen his eyes and managed with a sort of triple blink. _Fuck, better than the original. Do_ **_not_ ** _stare, Malfoy. Do_ **_not_ ** _creep Granger out by looking at her tits. Highly inadvisable._

Hermione felt hyper-aware of Draco’s fingertips and fidgeted miserably as he handed her the first plate of starters - strawberry, jalapeno and cream cheese nachos ( _Would have been pretentious if they weren’t so bloody good._ ) “Okay, Malfoy, so there were some good talks on using Muggle epidemiology models in magical disease control, and also on the effect of free magical healthcare on population health outcomes during outbreaks, by country. I can get ahold of the data for you, which should be helpful when you and your lot draft the new policy.”

“Our lot? We’re another department, Granger, not another species. Right, one Bloody Baron- sorry, Mary- for me, one Cosmopolitan for the missus.” Hermione scrunched up her face.

“What did you even _do_ that for?” 

He raised his glass to her unrepentantly. “Merlin, I do love riling you up. What’s this song? Muggle music’s so much better than ours.” 

Again that sensation of being tugged through a Portkey. Was it the idea of him and Muggle music, or that “ours”? 

“Glass Animals, I forget the name,” she said, thumbing her notebook’s edge with unnecessary pressure. “So what did you get to hear about? Anything I should know?”

“Nothing I can’t tell you next week. Granger, lighten up. Why do you think I brought you to a bar? To discuss the effects of potion fume inhalation on factory elves’ respiratory systems?”

“Yes.”

“And here I thought we could have a nice friendly conversation. Should’ve spiked your drink with a Netflick and Chill Out Potion.” Hermione scratched her nose rather too obviously to hide her smile, and Draco watched her put away her notes like a smug first year, ordering a few snacks too many before settling back in his seat and grinning at her again.

“Great. Now Granger,” his voice velvet, “Tell me all your deepest, darkest secrets.” 

“What?” She was stumbling headfirst into giggles. _Argh, talk facts, talk facts._ “You know, there’s this 1997 Muggle study where they came up with 36 questions to get to know a person better in one conversation. If that’s the sort of thing you had in mind.” 

_Well they call it “36 questions to fall in love”, but that isn’t what it was designed for and that’s not what I’m trying to do here and Malfoy doesn’t have to know._

“Mm. Perfect. Let’s do it.” Draco observed attentively as she looked up the questions on her smartphone, mostly only having encountered muggle communication devices in eighth year Muggle Studies class. An obligatory elective for young ex-Death Eaters mending their ways, but one he now appreciated having taken, especially given his line of work. 

“Right, we won’t do all the questions. I’ll choose the deepest, darkest ones, we’ll alternate going first, and we end this with four minutes of sustained eye contact. All right?” He nodded with endearing seriousness. 

“Question one. Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?” 

“Armand Malfoy. First Malfoy in Britain. You? Any famous dentist ancestors?”

“Dentistry isn’t a hereditary profession, you prat. Hm… I think I’d want to meet Ada Lovelace. She was a - a sort of muggle Arithmancer.”

Draco snorted, actually snorted. “Dorcus.” Hermione pitched a nacho at him and it thwacked him almost gracefully on the nose. 

“Next question. When did you last sing to yourself, or to someone else? I believe _I_ sang the school song yesterday in the shower”. _Mm, that’s an interesting image, Granger. Though not the sexiest choice of song._

”Granger, you’re worse than Percy Weasley. If you must know, I sang Happy Birthday for Goyle once, back in the bad old days. As a joke of course. I don’t sing,” said Draco, still rubbing his nose. Damn Granger and her perfect wandless nacho charms.

“You will next time it’s my birthday. Oh here, this is a good one. Name three things you and your partner appear to have in common.” Hermione did a tiny dance with her shoulders, a “bet you can’t think of any!” 

_Merlin, is she flirting?_

“I… uh. We both work at the Ministry…”

“Malfoy. Boring.”

“Okay - we both hate office gossip, we can’t stand Ministry parties, and we both unironically like “Om Shanti Om”, apparently.”

“How on earth did you know I like Bollywood movies? ”

“I didn’t. I just remember from when we had the International Muggle Culture seminar by Wizarding Resources last year, and you wouldn’t stop singing the songs in the lunch queue for, like, weeks afterwards.”

“Ohhh. That’s right. _You_ liked that movie?”

“Yeah. Didn’t know you liked Bollywood too. My current favourite is Gully Guy.”

“Gully Boy,” said Hermione automatically. She was still smiling when she looked back at her phone.

“Now then. If you could wake up tomorrow having gained any one quality or ability, what would it be? I think I’d want to be able to speak any language at will.”

“Ah. Well, I think I’d want to wake up with a clear mind,” said Draco without thinking.

“What do you mean?”

Draco looked down uncomfortably. ”Well, I have these- my mind feels a bit messed up. My mindhealer calls them - intrusive thoughts?” They popped up especially when he was with her. It was hard for him to believe she could ever be safe with him.

“Yes, I know what those are.” _Mudblood. Mudblood. Isn’t that what you really think of her?_

“Yeah… They feel like who I used to be, except they spring into my head and I hate them but it feels like they’re mine and it proves I’m a bad...” He looked at her almost pleadingly. He wanted her to know how bad he could be. Telling her felt like absolution.

Hermione put her hand on his, her gaze fierce to tell him she meant what she said. “I know you’re not a bad person. Those fucked up thoughts - that’s what you’re afraid of being, and if you’re afraid to be that way then you can’t be a bad person. I’m not afraid of who you are. Okay?” She made slow circles on his hand with her thumb, watching until he nodded. 

“But I’m afraid that’s not the sort of quality we’re looking for, Malfoy. It has to be a little more... absurd. Maybe you’d like to wake up with the ability to talk to unicorns, or charm the ladies, for example.” 

He was grateful for the sarcasm. “That’s not fair, Granger.”

“You were pretending to be a married man and you winked at the waitress. In front of me, your devoted wife and colleague. Can you _imagine_ my heartache?”

“Oh right, I’d forgotten about that. I mean… Okay. Is it fair to say that I’d flirt with a moving Snitch? Maybe. But in my defence, I haven’t gone on a single date in the past two years.”

“My point exactly. Why hasn’t Britain’s most eligible bachelor found the witch of his...”

“All right, all right, all right, give me the phone, Rita Skeeter. I want to pick now.” He tried each button systematically, to Hermione’s amusement, finally turning the screen back on again.

“Found one. Do you think your partner is good looking?”

“Yes. Wait. Malfoy! That’s not a real question! You bastard!”

His face lit up in a delighted smirk. _Gosh, I’ve never seen him look so happy._

“The least you could do, Draco _Malfoy_ , is answer the question yourself. Not that I want to know, but it’s only fair.” 

“Not going to tell you if you don’t want to know.” Hermione felt her ears prickle. _Ugh, the smooth bastard._

“All right, well, who wouldn’t want to know.”

“You’re quite beautiful, Granger. Next question“- this without looking at her- “Is there something that you’ve dreamed of doing for a long time? Why haven’t you done it?” _Oh, Malfoy. You unsuspecting innocent._

Hermione fell into giggles before she could come up with a reasonable decoy. “I’ve always wanted to, um, see the Northern lights. I don’t know why I haven’t gone.” _I mean, it’s not a lie._

“If you say so, Granger. No need to tell me about your secret house-elf fetish.” (Another nacho flicked him on the nose; it was damaged beyond repair now.) “I, for one, have been wanting to try one of those new Green Apple Acid Pops at Honeydukes. I should make a trip sometime.” 

S _weet Salazar, is she still blushing?_

“Let’s take a walk outside, shall we, Malfoy? I know I’ve drunk too much when I start giggling. I’m sure New York’s beautiful in the fall. Did you know there’s a Billie Holiday song called “Autumn in New York”?”

“What sort of holiday is that?” _Good save, the poor lamb’s distracted now._

They exited through the same passageway. Hermione decided she wouldn’t make the same mistake again, aiming for “toasty” and “autumn”. ( _And_ **_classy_ ** _._ ) But Draco just _had_ to go take her arm gallantly in the middle, and she just _had_ to panic, and this time he did not bother to hide his amusement when they emerged into the light.

Hermione was wearing a padded orange coat that fell to her ankles with all the form-fittedness of a mattress. It also happened to be embroidered all over with pieces of buttered toast. _Forgive me, Professor McGonagall, for I have sinned._

“Your sartorial range is... impressive.”

“Like you could do any better.” _Well, he makes track pants look sexy._

“I could.”

She looked down to find herself in tailored woollen trousers, a soft sage green cashmere, and delicate jewelry. Merely functional, she was sure - but she tingled at the familiarity of it. He took her arm again.

Their shoes crunched on crisp leaves as they walked into the nearest park, comfortably quiet. The bright moonlight, the muffled honks of swans behind the reeds in the pond - it was all rather romantic, apart from the occasional panting jogger who crossed their path. Draco took out the phone. 

“Right. Share five things that you consider a positive characteristic of your partner.”

“Malfoy…”

“I’m not making it up, I promise you.”

“You go first then.”

Draco leaned back to take her in, still looking at him warily.

“Beautiful as aforementioned. No-nonsense. Insanely brave, though still weirdly anxious about deadlines. Throws an amazing punch. Very observant. Too kind for her own good.”

“That was six,” said Hermione. “All right well let me see-”

“Incredibly sexy, as aforementioned…”

“I said no such thing. Well, I think you’re kind too, though you don’t make a song and dance about it. You work incredibly hard. You look out for the junior employees and you always speak up when someone’s being wronged. And you make an excellent scone, if the ones you brought to work last week were anything to go by.” 

Draco wasn’t about to tell her that Narcissa Malfoy had lately become fond of making scones for “those nice boys and girls”. “Thank you, Granger. That should last me till New Year’s, or longer if you don’t tear apart my next project proposal. Next question. What, if anything, is too serious to be joked about?” 

“The war,” they both said. Draco shook his head slightly. “Er… right. This one’s even funner. When did you last cry in front of another person, or by yourself?” 

“When Crookshanks died, I think? I don’t cry very often any more. But I came home to him every night, and now the house feels like I just moved in, and it’s... I don’t know, I just miss him.” 

“I’m sorry, Granger.” More leaves crunched.

“I think I cried a month ago. My father’s birthday. I didn’t know how to feel about it.”

Hermione took his hand, and they walked on, Draco stroking her fingers absently as he read the questions. She felt embarrassed they were holding hands; electrified by the fact; relieved that he didn’t let go when she tried to release him.

They paused to take a break against a tree. Hermione leaned back, feeling her hair catch on the bark, and for a few moments they stood watching the moonlight as it winked through the dark lace of the canopy. Only cricket-song painted the black silence.

“All right, the very last question. Are you ready, Hermione Granger?”

“Hit me with it.”

“Share a personal problem and ask your partner’s advice on how he or she might handle it.”

“Ah, that’s a good last question. I don’t know… Work’s going great. I think on the personal front I just feel a bit - unmoored? I don’t know what to do with myself. How to make meaning from it all.”

“Yes, I know what you mean exactly. In fact, that was my personal problem, word for word.”

“It was not.”

“Was too. Your phone has a clock in it, doesn’t it? Four minutes.”

“Timer.” She looked up from her pocket to see Draco planting one hand against the tree over her shoulder, half pinning her against the tree. His chest radiated warmth.

Hermione could feel the breath move between her lips, the hinge in her knees softening. Electric fields pulsing in distinctly unprofessional regions. She must look so stupid but then again he was looking at her with such white-hot intensity, she didn’t have much space in her brain for social anxiety.

“Did you know…”

“It’s not been four minutes…”

“Shut _up_ , Granger, we’re having a moment here. Did you know,” he murmured again almost angrily – “that this is the perfect opportunity for me to pin you against a tree and declare my feelings for you? Are you inclined to scurry away again? Because if so we can reschedule.”

Draco’s eyes were so close they felt like all of him. The air between them was rapidly beginning to disintegrate into a shimmering haze. Why did he look like he was expecting an answer to that? Oh, of course, consent. She shook her head dizzily, smiling. 

“Granger, I never thought you’d ever actually feel anything for me. I’ve wanted to take your face in my hands and drink in those beautiful brown eyes of yours and oh Merlin, just watch your lashes flutter like that for, I don’t know, three years now? Do you know how _life-affirming_ it is when the witch you fancy tells you she wants to play ‘36 Questions to Make You Fall in Love?” 

Her violent embarrassment only emboldened Draco to lean in, fold his tall form around her. She could feel his reverent hum on her lips. 

“Oh, you heard me, Granger. It was mostly Blaise’s doing. Said you’d find it attractive if I made an effort to learn Muggle stuff. Made me read the entire New York Times Modern Love section for Morgana’s sake. I mean, I’ll be thanking him profusely later. But I hope you don’t only like me when I’m in track pants.” His fingers were deep in her hair. “Do you?”

Hermione attempted to give him a plain answer, only to have him push her face back gently with a loving and slightly intoxicated look.

“I swear I’m going to tickle-hex you if you make me wait another second…”

  
“Not so fast, Granger. I’m not going to fuck up the opportunity of a lifetime by letting this be a one-off shag session. I will not so much as touch you-“ he withdrew his hands from her face, and even that seemed unbearable- “until you’ve gone on three dates with me.”

“Oh, Great Godric, Malfoy, I’d have said yes anyway, don’t be ridiculous...”

“Not a chance. What’s your answer, Granger? Three dates.”

An incoherent “mmrph”. 

“Sorry, can’t hear that.”

“Fine,’ she whispered. She’d meant to sound much angrier, but her throat was so dry. Draco’s eyes crinkled. 

“Sorry, you know I’m technically a lawyer, Granger. I’m going to need explicit agreement.” 

Hermione glared incandescently, but no dice.

“Ugh! Yes, three dates! Okay? Yes - yes - _yes_ !” She punctuated each _yes_ with a hard shove to the chest.

Draco still had that maddeningly euphoric grin on, even as he struggled to get back his breath. She was going to fucking torment him, Hermione decided, until they’d gone on five dates. No, _ten_ -

A horrified squeak lurched from the shadows, causing them to jump just as the timer exploded. 

“Absolutely disgusting, there are _children_ in this park,” shouted one of the Panting Joggers over the beeping as she bobbed away. “I _will_ be reporting you to security!”

“Oh my God,” said Hermione in mortified horror, beginning to run wildly towards the jogger. “I will murder you,” she mouthed silently over her shoulder, as Draco strolled after her, shaking with laughter. He wasn’t too worried. 

**Author's Note:**

> The song playing in the pub is "Gooey", by Glass Animals. In case you wanted to know :)
> 
> If you feel like it, please do comment! I'd love to hear your thoughts.


End file.
